


Death, As It Comes

by Harukami



Category: Bleach, Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Crossover, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-06-27
Packaged: 2017-10-20 18:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/215866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harukami/pseuds/Harukami
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a little 'end of the first FMA anime' thing. Rare pairing meme request by archangelbeth.</p><p>Originally posted to LJ on Mar. 9th, 2005</p>
            </blockquote>





	Death, As It Comes

Death, as it comes, is much prettier than Ed had expected.

The cease in pain had been nice; the pain in his chest where Envy had impaled him had gone away shortly thereafter, though the hole there had been replaced by a chain, docked inside him. The chain hurt, though not as badly as the wound had, ached like automail gone bad, where the feedback along the nerves would leave him gritting his teeth to keep from crying.

He reached, took hold of the chain near the base, and started to pull, to snap it off and let go of that, too.

"Do not," Death said, her first words since showing up with her long sword and her black clothes. Her face was grim, expressionless; her words are far too polite, tone almost pompous, it was that serious.

Ed looked at her. "But," he protested, weakly. "But, I--"

"You are a special case," she told him, and reached out to take hold of his wrist.

She was beautiful, he thought, and hated himself in that moment, that he'd be so hard up throughout life and so determined to wait, wait, not show his body like _this_ to a lover, that even Death would look beautiful. He grasped her wrist with his left hand, stroked his thumb along the steel-corded softness of her skin.

"Wait," Death told him, though she looked down at his hand as though she didn't know who it belonged to, or why it was there.

He wasn't stupid; he could read symbols as well as any alchemist. He had a cord binding him, she had a sword. "Aren't you going to use that?" he asked, nodding to it.

"Wait, I told you," she snapped, her tone growing irritated and only more high-class. "Exactly how foolish are you? Learn to listen!"

She reminded him a little of someone he knew, and he searched his memory for who, then gave up. "But I'm dead," he said, the tone of his voice empty from anything from that. "I --"

He leaned in and kissed her.

She didn't react at all for a long moment, her body stiff, eyes wide and black in her face, before she finally shoved him away with the hilt of her sword, her other hand dropping his wrist to fly to her mouth, scrubbing at it.

"I should kill you for that, human," she said, when she seemed determined her mouth was clean enough. "If there were not rules--"

"What are you waiting for?" Ed asked, soft. He spread his arms. "Go on. Please."

Her gaze dropped to one side, though her expression remained tight. "Wait."

Couldn't he even get pleasure from Death? He sighed, waiting, reached for her.

Alphonse reached back, grasped his wrist.

Ed stared at their joined hands, had a moment to stare his brother right in the eyes, right in the natural eyes he'd been born with, and then Death's sword came down, hard, right through their wrists. A sudden red light and Ed surged up, into life again, gasping for air, his entire body aroused, the image of Death without her clothes dancing in his mind's eye, the image of Al, a door closing, a smile.

Alphonse was gone.

"No," Ed told Death, told the silent air. "No, I won't let you do that. He's not yours. You're mine."

And, movements jerky, his eyes lowered, he began to trace out an array in blood.


End file.
